There was a certain young Creole called Juan who had been paying her great attention lately, and whom she entertained serious thoughts of marrying. The silk handkerchief, the earrings, and the coral beads had all been donned for Juan’s benefit, and now he was off to the Fort with some other girl maybe—with Chloe, or Celeste, or Marie—and she had to walk up and down this stupid avenue with the baby in her arms. Rosa could have shaken the baby for keeping her from the much-coveted spectacle.
As she was thinking over her disappointment, Judy—Mammy Lila’s granddaughter—walked from behind a tall bush, and confronted her.
‘Hillo, Rosa!’ she cried. ‘Is dat Missy Liz’s baby? My! how dat grown; she’s pretty heavy now, I guess.’
Judy was an ugly, cunning-looking young negress, of perhaps fifteen—tall and lanky and large-boned, with a propensity for lying and thieving and everything that was wrong.
‘Heavy?’ echoed Rosa; ‘you may say dat. She breaks my arm pretty well carrying her all day long. But ain’t you going to the wedding, Judy? It’s most time to be off. Don’t I wish I’se going too.’
‘Why ain’t you going, Rosa, gal? Uncle Mose say dat will be de finest sight ebber seen in San Diego. And you got your Sunday gown on too! Why you not go?’
‘’Cause Missy Liz say no; and I nebber go back to her if I disobey! But you’se going, Judy, sure?’
‘No, Rosa! I’se got bad head dis morning,’ replied Judy, with a cunning look, and her lean hand to her woolly hair, ‘and I’se can’t stand long walk. I’se better stay here till de dinner-bell sound.’
‘Dere now!’ cried Rosa, with vexation. ‘Ain’t dat a muddle? Why, I’d gib my best earrings to be able to go. I shall nebber forgive myself dat I not see Miss Quita’s wedding.’
‘You can see de carriages coming down de drive; and Miss Quita in her white dress—all lace,’ said Judy.